


Cherry Chapstick

by FreshPrincessofCheyne



Category: DCU (Animated), DCU (Comics), DCU (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bruce is okay with it, Clark is curious, First Kiss, Humour, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Out, Sexual Content, Smut, little bit of dirty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 11:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6152557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshPrincessofCheyne/pseuds/FreshPrincessofCheyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark notices one day that Bruce wears flavoured chapstick. He wants to know what it tastes like and there's only one way to find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry Chapstick

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this little oneshot! I thought of it when I was putting chapstick on, haha. I love you all and I'm so happy you're all so supportive!!  
> Okay I didn't even notice but I accidentally posted this one shot twice, so sorry to all who made comments and kudos on the other one I'm deleting! I still very much appreciate it! Thank you!  
> *NOT EDITED, SORRY FOR ANY MISTAKES*

“...Superman? Have you paid attention to a word I've said?” Oh, he was paying attention, alright. Just not to Bruce's words, but to the way his glossy lips formed them. He could smell the cherry chapstick from where he stood, not far from Bruce, and it had overwhelmed his senses because _Bruce wore flavoured chapstick_. Clark loved cherry.

“Clark,” he said more firmly this time, with a snap of his gloved fingers.

Superman shook his head, refocusing his attention back on Bruce's eyes instead of his memorizing lips. “Sorry.”

Bruce pulled his cowl off and unclasped his cape, glance curious. “Something bothering you?” He asked, throwing the cape carelessly over the Batcomputer chair. Everything seemed hazy, like he couldn't shake himself from a dream. Clark shook his head, and when he took note that Bruce didn't see the shake of his head, he said, “What? Oh, no.”

“Well, what do you think then?” Bruce questioned impatiently as he leaned against the computer console. Clark sent him a sheepish smile, the burn that started in his toes flooding his cheeks.

“What do I think?”

“ _Jesus_ , Clark,” Bruce sighed. Clark's eyes were back on Bruce's lips, a gorgeous pink, shining under the lights of the cave. He bit his own lip, wondering momentarily if Bruce's lips tasted like cherries.

“I wanted your opinion on a murder case I've been working for the past month but seeing as I was telling all my information to a _wall_ , I won't be getting that opinion I wanted.”

Clark stepped forward as Bruce took a seat in the chair and spun to face the computer. “Sorry, Bruce. I-”

“Do you...want to talk about it?” Bruce's words were hard, but Clark sensed a softness behind them. He furrowed his eyebrows as he stepped closer. He wished the fog that clouded his mind would lift.

“About what?”

“Whatever's bothering you.”

“There's nothing bothering me.”

“Clearly there is.”

He eventually said, “Okay, there is.”

Bruce turned the chair around, so he was facing Clark again. “Knew it,” Bruce said. “So, are you going to waste my time or tell me- What the hell are you doing?”

“Walking towards you.” He couldn't stop his feet, even if he wanted to, which he didn't. He couldn't stop thinking about cherries.

Bruce's heart skipped a beat, his fingers gripping the chair. Clark wondered if he gripped the chair as hard as he was because he knew he should get up and step away, but maybe he truly didn't  _want_ to.

“And why are you doing that?”

Clark leaned down, one hand on top of Bruce's on the chair, and the other cupping his cheek. Before Clark's lips made contact, Bruce gasped. With eyes closed and a heart pounding in his ear, he moved his lips against Bruce's, biting and tasting his lips, that tasted _just_ like cherry. Bruce didn't kiss back, but judging by the fierce beat of his heart, a faster pace than Clark's, he was enjoying it just as much as Clark was.

He sucked in a breath when Clark pulled away, only to bring his lips back to Bruce's, deeper this time, both hands cradling his face as gentle as possible. The kiss was deep, but slow and sensual, like Clark didn't want to rush it, but couldn't get enough. His lips tasted so good and _oh_ , the quiet sound when Clark kissed him again and again was incredibly addicting. When he pulled away, Bruce was just as frozen as before. He wondered if he broke him.

“ _Mhmm_ ,” Clark hummed thoughtfully, licking his lips which now tasted of cherry chapstick. “Tastes just like it smells. I was only curious, is all.”

Bruce was breathing heavily, lips a darker pink, a tad swollen and glistening even more than before. Clark's skin was fire at this point, his fingertips tingling. Bruce was silent, mouth gaping, cheeks burning.

“Remember that party you invited me too?” He didn't receive an answer so he continued, smiling at the steady thrum of Bruce's heart, the pulse at his neck thumping. “If the invitation still stands, I'll be seeing you later tomorrow night.” He touched his lips, grinning against his fingers. “Good-bye, Bruce.”

After Superman was gone, Bruce's fingers brushed across his mouth.

~~*~~

With the party fill in swing, the ballroom crowded, Bruce interacting with his guests, there was really only one guest he was looking forward to seeing. The one he invited. He didn't particularly enjoy admitting it, but he stood on his tippy-toes to glance over the crowd, searching for those radiant eyes he could spot out of hundreds of guests with no problem. It was getting hot and as soon as Bruce reached to loosen his tie, he saw Clark enter, all hunched shoulders and lowered, framed eyes. Bruce touched his lips without much thought, and before Clark could raise his eyes to meet Bruce's, he dove into his suit pocket, reaching for his chapstick. As he applied it in heavy coats, he was unaware of the predatory eyes on his mouth. He quickly popped the lid back on and returned it to its place in his pocket, busying himself with his glass of untouched wine.

“Good evening, Mister Wayne,” Clark greeted when he was standing next to the billionaire. Bruce looked up, Clark standing tall and imposing, smelling strongly of something soft like vanilla and lavender. Bruce's heart lurched. _Just_ Clark's scent always had the ability to weaken his knees.

“I believe we've met before, Mister…?” Always the clueless act; _especially_ around guests. Clark would be lying if Bruce's alter ego didn't turn a switch on inside, the kind that made him want to rip away the tie hanging loosely around his neck, and tear away the rest of his suit. It did wonders to Bruce's ass.

“Kent.” He stuck his hand out, which Bruce grabbed a hold of, Clark's handshake firm. “I'm from the Daily Planet.”

“Ah, yes-” Bruce, surprised by the arm that snaked around his waist that pulled him close, sucked in a breath, words forgotten. Clark's breath was warm on his neck, and smelled of peppermint. Bruce's favourite. He wondered, momentarily, if Clark did that on purpose.

“ _Mhmm_ ,” he murmured, lips brushing the side of Bruce's face. “Strawberry?” He whispered. Bruce swallowed thickly, nodding in response. His heart was already in his throat, and this time he wanted to grab the back of Clark's neck and be the one to pull them together, be able to kiss him back this time. Which was his full intention. After the other night, all he thought about was the amazing way Clark kissed. He certainty knew how to use those beautiful lips. Bruce was curious, wondering if Clark knew how to use those lips in _other_ ways.

“I love strawberries, you know,” Clark continued, voice so deep Bruce could feel it run deep in his bones, making him shiver. Clark's reply was immediate. He wrapped his arms around Bruce, one tight around his waist, the other cupping his cheek, and put his weight on Bruce, making the suited man stumble back into the clothed table. Clark's lips were already tasting Bruce's, just as feverishly as the last time, swiping his mouth of his strawberry chapstick. Bruce, fingers hanging off of Clark's blazer pockets so tightly his knuckles were white, whimpered quietly against the lips that dominated his. As Clark pushed more of his weight onto Bruce, his arm went back to support himself on the table. Only, he hit the pyramid-like stack of wine glasses, all of them shattering to the floor and coating it and himself in red wine, glass shimmering at his feet.

A few startled gasps sounded throughout the room and all the guests turned to Bruce. Clark pulled away, smirking. _The smug bastard_ , Bruce thought as his cheeks burned and he coughed.

“Whoopsie. Think I drank a little too much,” he chuckled lightheartedly, the crowd snickering in response and returning to their conversations, calling it typical Brucie behaviour and nothing more.

“I love the colour red on you,” Clark said, cheeks as dark as Bruce's, breath laboured.

“Clark,” Bruce warned, voice sharp because shit, this suit was expensive. He almost wanted to grab Clark again and connect their lips. He wanted more.

“Don't think I didn't see you searching for me, Bruce.”

Bruce froze, heart seeming to come to a stop. He glanced down at his shoes. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I saw you put the gloss on when I came into the room.”

“It's not _gloss_ ,” he protested, “It's _chapstick_.” He still didn't deny it, however.

“Either way, I definitely enjoyed strawberry.” Clark licked his lips and hummed. Bruce thought his knees would give out. “I love trying new things.”

“Oh,” Bruce said, stunned. He didn't know what to do with himself, but luckily Clark was there to help out.

He tipped his hat. “Well, I'm going to call it a night. I came here and got what I wanted for my _feature_.” He winked. “I'll be seeing you later, Mister Wayne.”

He waved sheepishly and offered Clark a smile as the taller man turned and disappeared through the crowd.

~~*~~

In a cheap bar somewhere in Metropolis, Clark and Bruce, Diana, Arthur, Oliver and Dinah and Barry were seated in a circular booth, cradling a beer. A few others were invited, but had plans and couldn't attend. Bruce was quiet most of the night, as he usually was when he was away from Gotham- and _wearing red_. Clark couldn't stop staring at him all night, watching as the man continuously applied chapstick like it was going out of stock and Clark couldn't do _a damn thing about it_. This time, it was banana. He wasn't a fan of banana like he was cherry or even strawberry, but if it was on Bruce, he'd become a fan of anything.

Bruce barely drank his beer, only had a few sips and handed it over to Barry (the damn guy was drinking as many as he could because of a hard day, and because it took a lot of alcohol to get him drunk and to _keep_ him drunk). After everyone ordered their food, jokes passed and laughter shared (Bruce laughing more often than usual, a sound Clark simply _adored_ ) he got up to excuse himself to the washroom. Clark got out of the booth, along with Arthur and Dinah to let him go. He debated on what he should do and with a last minute decision, decided to follow right behind Bruce. Bruce didn't even know Clark was on his heels until the door slammed shut and he heard the lock, and in seconds, he was being pushed against the sink. Leaning forward, hand flat against the cracked mirror, he cried out in surprise when Clark's heavy body was looming over him, all hot and vanilla and lavender; _god_ , his smell.

“I'm a little hungry for bananas, I'd say. Been craving them since we arrived here.”

Bruce gasped in reply, watching Clark through the mirror, the man's large hands on his hips. Bruce turned around and hitched a leg up on Clark's thigh, where the man gripped it and was already ducking to catch the billionaire’s lips.

He moaned around them, as delicious as the last two times he's kissed Bruce. He's surprised the man let it go this far, even as far as letting Clark kiss him in public, at his parties. Clark's been unable to control himself lately when it came to Bruce, especially the way he applied the chapstick, slowly - _aching slowly_ \- because he knew Clark would be watching. It was like Bruce was inviting Clark to just ravish him and hey, he wasn't complaining.

He dropped Bruce's leg and reached to grab his thighs, lifting him onto the sink, situating himself between Bruce's legs. His palms rested on the sides of his face, which was now burning at the touch.

One of Bruce's hands was grasping the hair at the nape of Clark's neck, while the other held the collar of his button-up shirt like he was ready to tear it off. 

Clark pulled away for a moment, while Bruce leaned forward to attach his lips to Clark's neck. “I love you in red,” he groaned.

“Mhm,” Bruce said, biting softly at the base of his throat. “Which is why I wore it.” Clark felt his bones rattle at the vibrations of Bruce's deep, alluring, voice against his neck.

“It makes you look so utterly edible.” Clark's lips found Bruce's again, where this time, he slipped his tongue into the shorter man's mouth, earning himself a gasp. The kisses were softer, more precise, the kind that made both their hearts beat heavily, steadily, like a drum.

“Hey!” The two pulled apart, eyes wide, startled. Bruce was in the process of removing Clark's shirt so he could touch his chest. It was Barry at the door, pounding on it. “Come out you two, duty calls!”

Bruce rolled his eyes and growled.

“Don't worry Bruce, I've got all the time in the world to taste you.”

At the statement, Bruce swallowed his heart, which had found itself a comfortable spot in his throat, blocking the oxygen to his brain. They left, ruffled hair and clothes and cheeks pink. Their teammates eyed them suspiciously, noticing how swollen and shiny Bruce's lips had become. Then, horrified for a moment, Bruce forgot that Diana and Arthur probably _heard_ everything and he was glad that J'onn wasn't there to _see_ it replaying in his mind like a goddamn movie.

“Interesting bathroom break, boys?” Dinah said, lips pulled into a smirk. Bruce threw daggers in her direction with narrowed eyes.

“Remember our fair share of interesting breaks in public bathrooms, Pretty Bird?” Ollie said, nudging Dinah. She sent him a playful wink.

“How could I forget? Bruce and Clark look just like us when we-”

“Hey, Dinah, here's a suggestion,” Bruce interrupted. “Shut up.” The table laughed just as Barry came back, pushing by the others to get to his seat in the middle of the booth. Arthur gave Barry a shove when he almost knocked over his bottle of beer.

“What'd I miss?”

“Oh, nothing,” Clark answered, smiling at Bruce. “Nothing at all.”

~~*~~

Aboard the Watchtower, Superman and Batman were on monitor duty. Batman made sure they got scheduled together for certain  _reasons_ , and before meeting Superman, he applied more chapstick. Batman strode into the room, noticing Superman sitting down, all massive muscles, smiles and those fucking _gorgeous_ cheekbones. And another thing Bruce thought was adorable was the way Clark's forehead got crinkly whenever he was thinking about something of importance. Superman turned in the chair, eyebrows raised as he studied Batman, eyes falling to his shiny lips. Almost instantly, Bruce felt that heat prickle his skin, his heart hammer. The Watchtower was practically empty, and that thought alone made something catch fire in Bruce's core.

_So many surfaces…_

“Hello, Batman,” Superman greeted. Batman replied with a nod and before he could even so much as say a word, Superman was patting his thigh. Bruce, confused, raised an eyebrow. Superman patted his thigh again, offering Bruce a seat. Swallowing the lump forming thickly in his throat, he stepped forward and then stopped, hesitant.

“Come here.” He patted his thigh again and Bruce bunched his cape up as he got over his worries and took a seat in Superman's lap. Immediately, Superman's arms came to wrap around Bruce's waist, his face resting on his shoulder. He moved his hips upward, hard, and Bruce gasped, surprised.

“Feel that?” Bruce's throat was dry. He couldn't see straight. He licked his lips, nodding. He coughed. “That's _all for you_ , Bruce. All I've been dreaming about is your cherry lips stretched with my cock.”

Bruce whimpered as Clark kissed his neck. Turning his head, a hand on the side of Clark's head, he yanked the man into a kiss. Clark hummed around the flavour of green apple and held Bruce tighter, hands roaming anywhere he wanted to touch.

Picking Bruce up, cape hanging over him, he carried him to the conference table, lying him over it. Pulling away with Bruce's lip between his teeth, he growled, “I want to fuck your mouth.”

Bruce brought Clark into a messy kiss, whimpering as he did so. Getting to his feet and pushing Superman against the table, he left kisses down the man's chest, Clark breathing heavily, heart pounding with each kiss.

On his knees, he reached for Superman's belt, removing it with a thud to the floor. Bracing himself against the table, he watched as Batman worked at pulling down the bottom half of his suit, hands shaking. He was either nervous, or excited. It was both in Superman's case. Clark's cock, hard and already leaking heavily, was now in Batman's gloved hand and _Jesus_ , his eyes widened at the sight and how finally, after imaging that cold leather around his dick so many times it was probably unhealthy, it was becoming a _reality_. Licking his lips, the green apple still a lingering flavour, he watched Bruce lean forward and take the fat tip in his mouth. Moaning, he resisted the urge to let his head fall back, keeping his eyes on Bruce to watch his tongue swipe at the slit and the pre-come, making needy noises like he craved his cock. At the rapid flicking of his tongue, Clark cried out, hands leaving dents in the table as his face scrunched up. And when he opened his eyes, Bruce was staring up at him, looking so delicious and dangerous in the batsuit. His jaw went slack as the pleasure shot through his body, every sense wild and uncontrollable. Bruce's hands slid underneath Clark's suit, running over his toned stomach and his chest.

No matter what, he couldn't stop making noises. He was getting loud and at this point, he didn't give a damn. Bruce's mouth on his cock was extraordinary and he hadn't noticed until a minute later that Bruce's hand was squeezing his ass, indicating that he could move his hips. Clark, with a hand on the back of Bruce's head, began to thrust forward, into the tight warmth of Bruce's mouth, watching his cock swell Bruce's cheeks and his throat. Clark's pre-come was thick and pushed from Bruce's lips with each thrust in, staining his lips and chin.

“Bruce,” Clark whispered, teeth gritted as he went faster, harder, as Bruce's face went red and tears involuntarily gathered in his eyes as he fucked his throat. Bruce's hands were on Clark's hips, gripping tightly. “ _Ah_!”

He made muffled sounds on Clark's cock in response to Clark's, the vibrations seeming to shoot up his spine in the best of ways; the most incredible ways. His knees grew weak watching Bruce struggle to handle his cock, his heart a song in his ear, his arms shaking. “I can't stop,” he panted, voice loud, “Oh, _Bruce_ , I-” Holding Bruce in place, he came down his throat, coating his mouth and lips with ribbons of cum. Bruce, stroking the base of Superman's cock, eased him through his orgasm as his muscles rippled and his body went ridged, his face disoriented with immense pleasure. He curled his toes.

When he finished and his cock slipped from Bruce's mouth, he was still hard, seeing Bruce coated with his release. Pulling Bruce back into his arms, he brought his lips to the shorter man's, who was still recovering, and kissed him. For a while, they kissed, tenderly this time, as Clark messily worked Bruce with his hand. The man continuously whimpered in Clark's mouth and cried out when Clark fisted his cock and he came, warm on Superman's hand, his back arched against the man's chest.

Breathing thickly into each other, foreheads touched, Clark chuckled breathlessly. “The cherry was always one of my favourites,” he said, Bruce finally recovering enough to open his eyes. “But, I think I found my new favourite flavour on you.”

Bruce, smiling, said breathlessly, “And what flavour is that?”

“Me.”

“Well, I'd be more then happy to apply that flavour,” he said, “since it's my favourite as well.”

Laughing against Bruce's lips, he kissed him. “Is that so?”

“It is so.”

“I'd be happy to help you apply it,” Clark offered. Bruce gave him a playful shove.

“Are you up to the challenge?”

“You don't even know Bruce,” Clark said, grinning. “You don't even have a clue as to how ready I am.”


End file.
